Forever Night
by SharpShooter626
Summary: Memories of the past are costing Charlie more than just sleep in the present.
1. Default Chapter

**Discliamer: These characters in no way belong to me... sniff **  
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I wander around the house briefly saddened by the condition it's in. After mom got sick no one's really had the strength to clean. For only a moment I stop, realizing how absurd it is to go see my ailing mother at this hour of the night.

_I know that Don and dad will be in there, sleeping restlessly in chairs or blankets on the floor, but for me it's different. I haven't seen her since she first came home. When the doctors said that she only had a week or two to live, they sent her home._

_I was confused and angry. I kept asking why they were sending her home and why they weren't helping her. I asked so many times to my tired brother that he snapped. Whipping around and pushing me to the wall he screamed "They're sending her home to die Charlie! They can't help her and they want her to be comfortable when she DIES!"  
_  
I wake up, my whole being shaking from the recollection of such horrid events. Of course it had only gotten worse from there, but remembering Don's hateful voice was painful. I'm distinctly aware of the smell of bacon from downstairs, but I'm not hungry.

I get up slowly, arching my back to knock the kinks out from another bad night sleep. Dad walks in, frying pan in hand and grins at me. "I'm in a bacon mood, how 'bout you?" I shrug and stand up.

"I need a shower." The words are out of my mouth before I can even think and dad stares at me for a second.

"Suit yourself; it's not every day that I fry up some grade "A" pig, so if you change your mind I'll make some extra." He leaves without a second thought and I head to the shower.

Once in I let the hot water burn my skin a heated red. Classes are resuming today and most of the kids will be new. Sure, some old faces will present themselves, but mostly I won't recognize anyone. Probably because when I start my brain at work on math, not much can penetrate the barrier. Most kids I won't even learn the names of.

I wait another few minutes before getting out and dressing in a loose white dress shirt and jeans. I was never big on dressing "up." Don had told me that once but I could only muster a laugh at the comment. It was true.

"Whew, school is back already, huh," Dad says rather than asks and elbows me. I can't help but smile.

"Yeah, nothing like the thrill of teaching." Dad stares at me for a second, a serious look plastered on his face. "What?"

"You're serious aren't you? I was trying to figure out if you were joking or not." He sits down and unfolds the paper.

"What's so funny about teaching?" I ask, utterly puzzled.

"It's not teaching, son, it's how there can possibly be a "thrill" in it." I laugh and start to get my papers together.

"You're sadly mistaken, teaching has plenty of thrills." I glance at the clock, surprised. "That's the time?"

"No, the clock fell last night and broke, it's been stuck like that," Dad says knowingly from behind the newspaper.

"If the clock broke last night then why is it ahead? Shouldn't it be behind… a lot?" He looks up at the clock, amusement shining through his eyes.

"Oh, yeah, that's the time."

"Darn!" I run out the door not even bothering to say bye. I'm ten minutes late, on the first day!

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I dash into the classroom probably making the biggest fool of myself and skid to a halt in front of my desk. Panting I turn to the class and see the giggling expressions of more girls then I can count. Should I be flattered or scared? Maybe only woman are interested in math these days.

"Um, I…" I stutter, not sure of what to say. In all of my years teaching here, I've never been late. I've also never had so many girl students. "Ladies," I finally begin. "I'm Professor Charlie Eppes." Eager hands reach for books ready to take notes.

Turning to the board I begin. Yeah, teaching definitely has a thrill.

_The door to my mom's room creeks open as I rest my hands on it. Dad is sitting in a chair brought from downstairs and Don is kneeling by the bed, head resting against the soft sheets._

_They're both sound asleep. I look to my mom and I don't see her. No, it's not her. In her place rests a frail old woman, skin tinted an odd color with boney hands gently pressed to her chest._

_I turn from the room, suddenly nauseated. A lump in my throat causes my breath to hitch and my mind to spin. I let one stray sob out and run as fast as I can from the room. I don't stop there. I run from the house too. My feet bring me to one of my only and best friends. Larry._

_He answers the door and I am surprised that he's awake. Before he can get a word in I throw myself into his arms and cry. The haunting images of the woman that should be my mother ran through my mind over and over again._

_"Charles?" He asks his voice quiet and gentle. He puts his hands on my back and leads me to his couch; making sure to close the door behind us. "What happened? Oh God," He whispers, staring out into space as a false realization hits him hard. "She's g-gone?"_

_I can only keep crying. As soon as this is all over I know I'm going to look like a fool. I should be crying over her death, but instead I'm just now starting to cry over her illness._

"Is he really sleeping?" Don asks dad as we all sit around the table. Yeah, I was sleeping until the image of my mother caused me to arouse. My plate still full lies next to me and my head rests in my arms.

"He just started classes today, and apparently there's this thrill in teaching that I'm just now hearing about." Dad says through mouthfuls of the delicious whatever we're eating.

"There're some thrills of being an FBI agent but you don't see me face down in my…" Don stops and gazed awkwardly down at whatever is on his plate. I watch him through a crack between my arms, still pretending to sleep.

"Sushi." Dad supplies proudly.

"EW!" My head flies up and I recoil from the disgusting dish. My chair leg catches on something instead of sliding back and I fall to the ground.

"That's disgusting." Don says, getting up to help me. "What made you want that?" He helps me up; his head still turned to dad.

"Well, I have a new girlfriend." I sit back down and whisper a kind thank you to Don.

"That's good. What? Is she a fish?"

"Actually Don, if dad's girlfriend would be a fish she would most likely oppose eating her own kind." I say grimacing at my dish.

"Yeah, but don't fish eat fish?"

"Not all fish."

"Oh… But" Don begins as he pokes the dinner with his fork.

"She's not a fish!" We both turn to Dad. "She's Asian," He says a lot more quietly.

"In all fairness, if she's not here right now then why do we have to eat this?" I could hug Don, but still my hunger was down to a minimum. So even if the food on the table was something I liked, I most likely wouldn't have eaten it. But at least this gives me an excuse.

"Come on guys, I'm going to invite her to dinner tomorrow and I want everything to be perfect!"

"You mean we're having this tomorrow?" I shout, considering staying late at work. Dad looks down.

"Yeah, I won't be able to make it tomorrow with work and stuff," Don says stiffly.

"Me t…" Before I can finish, Don's phone rings. He checks the caller ID and then with a flip of his hand, answers.

"Eppes," Dad and I become silent. "Where... Now? Nothing I can't miss out on…Yeah, I'll be right there." He hangs up the phone and stands up.

"Who was that?" Dad gives me a look.

"Charlie, don't be rude." He pauses for a second then turns to Don. "Who was it?"

"Terry," Don half says and half sighs. "Turns out there has been a murder. Really close to here actually. So lock the doors and be careful." My hand slips from my chin and jams into my eye. I recoil and knock a few forks off the table.

"N-near here?" I rasp rubbing my eye and trying to pick up the unlucky utensils. Don only smiles.

"Don't sweat it buddy, they've got the best agent on the case." I look around.

"What, you?" I ask jokingly. He stares at me dryly.

"Very funny," He gets a jacket and walks to the doorway. "I'm serious, keep it safe guys." Dad nods and shoos him away.

"Now, what's so wrong with my Asian girlfriend?" He asks as he sits down again. I only laugh.

_"I'm so sorry." Larry whispers to me patting me on the back once I finally stopped crying. I pull away from him and look into his eyes. He's crying too and now I feel even worse._

_"Larry," I say sheepishly. "She hasn't died yet." I sniff and wipe furiously at my now burning eyes._

_"What," He sits up more, getting comfortable. "Then why…?" I look down and he tilts his head to see my eyes._

_"You know how I told you that I haven't been able to bring myself to see her," He nods at me._

_"You saw her." He finishes. "Illness really eats away at one's appearance and I'm sure that it must've been surprising and even shocking to see her…"_

_"No!" I shout standing up. "That wasn't her, Larry that was someone else. Some one is taking my mom away from me and I can't stop them! Please…" My voice turns quiet and hoarse. "Help me; I don't want to lose her." Tears are slipping from both our eyes as he searches for something to say._

_"There's nothing that anyone can do now, Charles."_

To be continued…

I'm sorry if everyone is OOC, I'm not good at keeping the characters the same as shows. I'm sorry about the sushi thing. I'm sure a lot of people like it… I don't…


	2. Chapter 1

**Thank you all for the reviews! **

I lean back in my chair and stretch my arms out. Larry is sitting a few paces behind me but my arms don't reach. Another yawn escapes from my lips. Larry is talking, I just know it but I can't hear him. I'm just so tired. 

"Do you think a test on the second day is extreme?" Those words filter through the haze in my mind and I tilt my head back to see my friend. He looks at me and then holds up a test paper with 100 questions.

I flip my head over nearly falling out of the chair.

"Did you always type up 100 point tests on the second day? What are the questions? "What did you do over break?" A) Went to Disney World. B) Spent…"

"Alright, I see your point, but what if I tested them to see what they know." He turns around and gazes frustrated at the hunk of junk he calls a computer.

"Then don't let it count." He nods though ever so slightly. "What? Aw, did you really want to make that count?" He shakes his head, still not looking at me. Worry hits me and I stand up. Walking over to him I place a gentle hand onto his shoulder. "You okay?"

He sighs and hangs his head lower, "Yes, yes. I'm fine." A knock on the door tears my eyes off of my friend. A woman stands in the door way, eyes wild and chest heaving. My cell phone grasped tightly in an elevated hand.

"Sorry Professor Eppes, your cell phone was ringing and I thought oh, well, they'll leave…" The phone rings again and instead of explaining she throws her hand out. I reluctantly leave Larry's side and take the phone with a slight nod to her.

"Hello," I answer leaning against the wall. When no answer comes I check to see if I answered it right. "Hello?" Again, silence greets me. Impatiently I close the phone.

"Thank you… uh…" The girl perks up and smiles ear to ear.

"Ashley," She helps. "I'm in your next class."

"Oh, well then, I'll see you there." She hops off.

I turn to Larry and take a step back when I see he's not there.

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Lunch break ends and soon thereafter I find myself standing in front of yet another class with more girls than my brother's phone book held in his High School years. Our high School years…

At least this class has a few guys in it. I turn and start writing an equation on the board but stop. I can't get my mind off of Larry. Something is obviously wrong with him. I lean against the board and close my tired eyes; forgetting that behind me rests about 45 full stomached students ready for today's lessons.

"Professor Eppes?" A young woman questions. She sounds so far away though. Maybe she's sitting in the back, or she's standing in the doorway.

The chalk slips from my hand and clatters to the floor. Hushed whispers fill the room and I hear the shuffling of feet. Someone's warm voice questions worriedly from my left.

"Professor, do you want me to get someone?" I pull myself from the board and shake my head.

"I'm sorry…" I stare at her hoping she won't be angry. After all, it is only the second day of classes.

"Amy" She supplies.

"Amy, I'm fine. You may take your seat." I place a hand on the desk to steady myself. When she doesn't move, I take a deep breath ready to convince her only to get the distinct taste of blood flood my mouth. I hide my surprise but still say nothing.

"Um," She starts messing with the hem of her shirt. "Your nose is bleeding." 

Immediately, my hand flies up to my nose. I pull it away and gasp at the amount of blood on it. Amy hands me the tissue box off of my desk and I quickly cover my face with a few. I grin trying to cover up my fear.

"A little blood isn't the end of the world, but if you guys will excuse me for a moment." They nod and I leave at first slow, but as soon as I enter the hall I run to the faculty bathroom.

Once in I run to the mirror. I haven't had a nose bleed for years, many in fact. I splash water on my face and keep pressing a few tissues to my nose. Today just isn't turning out to be my day.

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"Have you eaten anything?" Don asks me as I sit twirling around in a desk chair in his office. He called me in after classes saying he needs help.

"Yeah," I lie. Terry is sitting up on a table and David is leaning against the back wall. A few other agents are standing around but I don't recognize them. Don turns to the rest believing me.

"Alright, people, we're dealing with a serial killer. These are the victims." He gestures to the board where six images of young men and women hang. "There appears," He drags "appears" out because he doesn't necessarily know for sure. That's why I am here. "to be no pattern in the locations of these people. As far as we know so far, none of them have even met before."

I zone out from his words and stare intently at the images. I've seen these people before, I just don't know where. Someone walks into the room but I am too engrossed to look up. After the person leaves Don starts saying something much more loudly.

"Charlie!" My head snaps up. "Did you hear me?" His eyes are wild. I shake my head and look back at the pictures. "Maybe you should go home and get some rest," He suggests and bends down to my level. "You're not looking so good."

As much as I'd like to tell him about the dreams and how impossibly bad my day has been going, I can't. Don's a protective older brother. I'm not too sure when it happened, but I guess as he grew older he started expressing how much I mean to him a lot better than when he was younger.

There were times when we were in high school that I actually believed he hated me. Most of which I have willed myself to forget. Now Don will lose sleep if he thinks something is wrong with me and with his job that can be dangerous.

"I'm fine."

_ "Please Charlie, just go see her," Don cries, not in the least afraid to show me the tears that spill from his eyes. "She's going to die Charlie, don't let her die without talking to you… without seeing you." I don't move._

"God damnit Charlie! Get up there now!" His voice is harsh and angry. It cracks every now and then. Still, I don't move. We're in the garage and every chalk board in the house is set up. I'd take a few down and erase them, but each equation; each number means something.

"Ah!" Don rushed forward grabbing my arm in a death grip. His hand tightens spasmodically into a fist and he throws it up to my face threatening me. Without a second thought, he starts dragging me roughly from the dusty prison.

"Don, please… please don't hurt me." I cower backwards trying to get a good hold on the floor with my feet.

"I'm not hurting you! You're hurting mom! You're hurting Dad! You're hurting me!" He throws me back and I stumble pitifully to the ground. He stomps forward but then stops and turns around as if some great will and force pushes him back.

"Sometimes I want to hit you so bad," His voice is significantly quieter then before. "You just make me so mad." I stand up on wobbly feet and catch the side of the garage for balance. I change the subject quickly.

"Mom hates me, doesn't she?" Don's eyes go wide as he gets half of why I won't go see her.

"No, no, no, she doesn't hate you. She could never hate you," He looks down. "She's too nice for her own good; she could never hate anyone."

"I tried Donny; I tired to go see her but I just… I just," I let out a quiet sob and drop to the ground, my hand trailing down the garage. Don walks over and kneels next to me.

"When?" His caring side coming out again.

"Last night," I answer. "But as soon as I saw her I freaked out I just couldn't take it. I'm sorry." He scoots forward and awkwardly takes me into his arms. We sit there like that for most of the night. 

I open my bloodshot eyes and glance around the darkened room. I'm back in my office. Before I can think of anything else the light turns on and Larry stands in the doorway taking in my disheveled appearance with humor. I sit up from where my head was resting on the desk and wait for him to say something.

"Long night?" I merely nod and stand, stretching my limbs out to get some blood running through.

"What're you doing here so late," I ask absent mindedly only to snap back to full attention when I remember our last encounter. "And why did you rush out of the break room so fast? Is something wrong?" 

"I'm just about to leave, I normally leave this late, and that is for another time, Charles." I take a few moments to think and then shrug.

"Just promise you'll tell me; I hate when people keep things from me." He chuckles and I walk forward, placing a friendly hand on his shoulder to guide him out.

"Promise," He repeats thoughtfully and we head down the hall. "You want a ride?"

"Nah," I say with a yawn. "The bike is out front and I don't want to have to walk here tomorrow morning." Larry looks at me strangely.

"It is tomorrow morning, my young friend who believes a watch is the devil," I stop him and release my firm hold from him.

"I don't…" I stop, suddenly realizing something about those pictures Don had shown me. "I have to go! Good Night!" I rush down the hall towards the doors; my ears hearing nothing but the slapping of my feet on the ground and a faint "Good morning" from Larry.

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I bang on Don's door again. It's been almost five minutes and still there is no answer. He's not at dad's house; I stopped by there to pick up some papers. Maybe he's at the office. A tiny tinge of worry flurries through me and I pound the door louder and faster.

I barely realize it when the door falls away and Don's tired sleep ridden face appears.

"What! What, Charlie," He grabs my hands and stops me. "What is it? Do you know what time it is?"

"The watch is the devil," I say hurriedly and march into Don's apartment. He follows me. I haven't been in here for a while and apparently nor has he. It's spotless; furniture scarce. There is a loveseat by the north wall and a small coffee table in the middle.

Finding what I want I drop my bag and bring out a heap of papers. Placing them messily on the table; I turn to Don.

"I figured something out," Don walks to the loveseat and collapses face-down onto it. "Four out of… Are you listening to me? Don? Don?" I throw one of the only pillows at him and he groans. "Listen to me!"

"Nothing is that important at 3:00 in the morning," Or at least that's what I think he said, for he still has yet to pull his head off of the cushions.

"Oh I beg to differ," I say angrily and grab for something else to hit him. It's useless though; Don's apartment has more to sit on then to throw. I approach him reverting back to when we were little.

I poke him roughly, "Come on, I'm serious,"

"And I am listening," He says patently and turns his head so he can see me and not suffocate.

"Alright," I step back and kneel in front of the table. I take out four pictures of the six victims and show them to Don. He only stares. "These four kids all attended one of my seminars." I can't help but feel a quick burst of joy.

"Okay, but what about the fifth and sixth one and does that point us in any sort of direction? It sounds like a coincidence to me." The joy floods away and I look hopelessly at the pictures.

"But…" I can't finish; I was stupid to wake Don up, why hadn't I seen that. As if seeing the pain in my eyes my older brother straightens up and tries to comfort me.

"It's okay that might work. Maybe the…" I stand up not even bothering to get my things and I head for the door.

"Don't worry Don; I should've seen it before. I'm so stupid," I open the door.

"No! Charlie you're the smartest person I've ever met! You just made a mistake! I mean, it might not even be a…" I walk out, shutting the door quietly behind me.

I should've thought about it like Don did; I should've seen the flaws.

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I know that there is a link within what Charlie said and it could help Don, but remember, Charlie wants Don's approval and Don woke up 2 minutes before. He's not thinking straight. I guess… Comments and suggestions are welcomed!


	3. Chapter 2

_Everyone was devastated after mom's death. Sure, we had known what was coming, but that's the difference between just knowing and then experiencing. The difference is pain, So much more pain._

Anyway, everyone seemed to have their own problem and everyone wanted to deal with it on their own. Dad couldn't sleep. I guess it was the thought of the cold unoccupied side of the bed that gave him an ultimate dread and stopped the sleep from coming.

Don's short temper shortened drastically. Simple words would set him off. Time after time he would snap at me, but thankfully he never hit me, though I did give him reason. As for me, I was the worst of them all.   


I stare endlessly at the bottle on the floor. It had to have been 5:00 in the morning when I finally found myself at home. I remembered dad's pills as soon as I walked in. He stopped using them a while ago but I recall the bottle to still be quite full. When we finally decided to do something about his insomnia, that's when the doctor recommended that he take Clonazepam, sleeping pills.

I rushed into the bathroom with all of my pain hitting me full force. I tore open the medicine cabinet and managed to clumsily knock all of the bottles into the sink or onto the floor. I had scrambled to the floor to find what I was looking for, and that's were I am now; staring at it as it lays unmoving in the middle.

I reach for it, my mind finally slowing down, when a knock on the door alerts me that I have woken dad up.

"Everything alright in there Charlie?" I stop and pull my hand back.

"Yeah, I just lost uh…" I pause shakily, unable to produce a semi-believable excuse.

"Your lunch?" Dad supplies leaving me confused. Why would I be eating my lunch in the- oh! I remember the term and feel utterly stupid if only for a moment.

"No, Dad I'm fine." I hear him sigh and now I feel worse. I managed to wake Don up for nothing and now him. I always get in people's way.

"Alright, but if you are sick tell me so I can call you out of school." I do a double take as if trying to hear his words again. I shoot up to the door and crack it open with wide eyes.

"What did you just say?" He turns from walking down the hall.

"I said I was going back to bed. Maybe you should get your ears cleaned out." He grins and continues his path.

I shut the door and lean against it. My mind racing again. Racing around and around, turning over every rock and remembering every skeleton. I need to stop it. The clock in the bathroom hits 5:10am; glancing dazedly at the bottles on the floor, my eyes only seem to focus on that one, almost full, bottle of pills.

_I sit unmoving on the couch; my eyes trained on dad and Don. They're taking care of funeral costs. Low large rimmed glasses hang off of dad's nose while Don rubs at his eyes. If life costs a lot, then death must cost ten times as much because we are definitely having trouble meeting the cost._

"Do we know a date yet?" Don asks as he gets up. I assume he's going to get a beer.

"Tuesday," Dad says as he pulls off his glasses and places the current stack of papers he'd been reading down to the table.

Numbers, I'm good with numbers, but not anymore. Normally no one can separate me from my numbers, but now it's different. Now you can't get me near them.

"Would you get off your ass?" Don asks exasperatedly as he passes me.

"Be nice to him Donny, this has been pretty rough on him." Dad says and stands up to walk over. 

"It's been rough on all of us, but why do we get stuck with all of the work. Speaking of work, I can't really keep taking days off; I'm going to get fired." Dad stops mid way so now it is Dad standing on one side, me sitting slouched on the couch, and Don standing on the other side.

"You mean they're not giving you anymore days off? Your mother passed away, I'd think you'd be entitled to more then just 4 days." Dad states and elbows me to get me to move onto the middle of the couch. Once I am there he sits down heavily.

"To tell you the truth, 4 days was actually pushing it." He sits on my other side just as dad did.

We all stay quiet for a while. Touching family moments take time, but something tells me that this isn't going to end up as one. Don might not sound angry, but I know deep down he wants to scream at me; tell me that I am worthless. He won't do it now because he'll only stress dad out more. I'm glad dad's here.

"Well, I'm going to see if I can pack up some more things from the bedroom." He gets up and walks brokenly to the stares.

"I'll come help you." Don makes to stand up but dad stops him with a calm wave of his hand.

"I think I want to do this myself, Son," He mutters, and walks up. This has all the making of a good fight and I can't think of any way to stop it. Don turns a little and looks at me. Here it comes.

"I love you," I whisper weakly. Don doesn't look surprised, he only stands up and walks to the kitchen. I sigh, that's one fight successfully avoided.  
  
Is there such thing as taking too many sleeping pills? Because in those five minutes it took me to practically down the whole bottle, I completely forgot that doctors set limits for reasons. Am I trying to kill myself? No, I'd never do something like that.

_**The Rest of the Story Will Be Told From Don's Point of View.**_

"I don't think he did it." I say to Terry after I come out of the interrogation room.

"He confessed Don. Everything adds up," She says plainly and we start walking down the hall. It's about 5:00 in the morning, but I was called in when the "murderer" came in to confess.

"Charlie mentioned something about more then half of those kids going to one of his teaching things. I think that's more then enough to warrant for some suspicion." I reply thinking back to when Charlie had come into his apartment.

"So, he could've still done it. And why would he confess if he didn't?" She tells me as if I've gone crazy.

"But he's not linked to the school in any way. Wouldn't you think that just maybe this guy should be in ties with the school?" Terry shakes her head even before I am done explaining.

"It sounds like a coincidence." I sigh and turn a corner. Terry stops and looks after me. "We're you headed?"

"I need to talk to Charlie," I call down the hall. Now that I see logic in what Charlie told me, no one else sees it.

"_How can you just stand around and do nothing? Can't your "genius" brain see that Dad and I need help with this, Charlie?" I shout at my little brother. My voice echoes through the empty house. We had successfully managed to get rid a lot of memories. Dad had said it was better this way._

"We're hurting too. Dad's at the doctors for his insomnia. He hasn't slept in over a week. He almost passed out while helping me move the desk. If you would stop moping around and help, none of this would be happening!" I press my hands tightly against the kitchen counter and Charlie lays his back gingerly on the sink.

I'd be hitting him if not for the counter in front of me. But if Charlie doesn't start explaining himself soon, I might just jump it.

"ANSWER ME! Why are we suffering while you just sit there? You know what, Charlie? It was you! You killed mom, and I hope you're happy with yourself because you have to live with it forever!" I push the box of knives and forks onto the floor. The metallic clang mixed with my voice causes Charlie to flinch visibly.

Even though that happened more then a year ago, the memory is always as fresh as if it had happened a mere few minutes ago. Every time I snap and yell at Charlie, I hate myself a little more.

I pull my car up to the house and stare at it for a moment. Dad's light is on, which is strange because it's barely 10 minutes after 5am. Before I can think more about it, the light dies down. Now the house is pitch black; except maybe the rooms in the back which I can't see.

I step out of the car into the chilling morning air and make my way to the door. This is a bad idea. I can tell that Charlie hasn't been sleeping well, so waking him up won't solve anything. I stop at the door. My watch shines a bright "5:15am."

I reach out, debating. Charlie doesn't need to see me. I turn around and practically jog to my car. Charlie is fine; I'll give him time to think.

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Hmm, answer to a question that was asked surprisingly a lot. Nah, the numbers that separate scenes mean nothing. Wouldn't it be cool if it was like a count down 'till some one died? Oh well, 's a pity.

Man! What would've happened if done went in? Would he find Charlie before it was too late? Bet ya' he'll kick himself when he finds out. Oh yeah, sorry for the shortness!

Reviews are nice. They make me feel all special!


	4. Chapter 3

AGAIN! THANK YOU ALL FOR THE REVIEWS! Too bad he doesn't turn around, eh? 

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in Numb3rs… or the show… or a fish pond.

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I'm barely three blocks away when a woman runs out into the middle of the street. Slamming on the breaks I stop just before I hit her.

"Please help me! He's going to kill me!" She screams and bangs on the hood of my car. I leap out of the car pulling my gun out and searching for her attacker. The woman, seeing my gun; cries out and tries to run, but years of practice tell my left hand to grab her then pull out my badge.

"Oh officer, thank God. I was walking down the street when this man came out and grabbed me. I ran away but he was chasing me," She explains breathing heavily. Suddenly, a man jumps out of from behind a car and slams into me. My gun falls from my grip and I here the girl screaming.

The man forces me back against the damp walls of a local deli. The street lights illuminate his face but I don't know him. He knees me in the stomach and my breath rushes out of my lungs in a heavy wheeze. He goes to hit me again but I put my foot up and try to pry him off of me.

"Some one please help! Help him!" The woman is crying. The last time I heard someone scream like that was…

_"Aw, come on Charlie, the roof is the coolest place in the whole house." I tell my 7 year old brother as I pull him roughly up the stairs. He's resisting and yanking at my hand every chance he gets. _

"But Donny I don't WANNA go on the roof!" He shouts childishly at me.

"Oh, yes you do. You just don't know it yet." Yesterday was my 12th birthday and Charlie messed the whole thing up by getting sick. I only turn twelve once and he has to pay for what he did.

"No! Please, I don't wanna!" He props his feet on one of the stairs and heaves back causing me to backtrack about 3 stairs, but my grip on his forearm doesn't loosen.

"For the last time, Charlie, you do want to get up on that roof and get up on that roof you will!" I give him a final yank and he follows me dejectedly for the rest of the trip. Once we get into the attic, I open the small window and push him out.

"Aren't you coming?" He questions wrapping his arms tightly around himself to keep warm from the winds.

"Yeah, yeah, just hold on a minute." I get a shoe box that has one of Charlie's favorite toy planes in it and pull it out on the roof with me. His eyes light up when he sees the box.

"Oooh, whaaaaat's innnnnn the boooooox?" It's amazing. He takes a sentence that should've only taken a fraction of a second to say and drags it out to practically last 20 seconds.

"You'll see" I whisper menacingly and take his shoulder. I lead him to the very edge of our house and I feel him shiver under me. "Pretty high up, huh?" He swallows and nods, but still he stares down at the ground. "I bet you it would hurt if you fell." I say, kneeling down to his level, but I keep my hand on his shoulder.

He nods again and leans outward to peer further. He jerks back when I stand up to full height again and open the box. He flips around and starts hopping eagerly into the air.

"What it is? What is it? What is it?" The last one comes out as a high pitched whine. I lift the box up away from his grasp.

"I told you already, you'll see," He looks down sadly. "Now, didn't I tell you you'd like the roof?" He looks out at the setting sun. Taking a deep breath and remembering how he ruined my birthday, I pull out the plane and discard the empty box.

He turns around in a hop then stares confused at his plane… his favorite plane.

"Why do you have that?" He whispers and I can tell that deep in his mind he can see what is coming.

"Your plane it going to fly Charlie," I pull my arm back and forth, pretending that the plane is souring openly through the sky.

"No," He pleads. My eyes turn on him fiercely.

"Yes," I pull my arm back, ready for take off.

"No! NO! Please, Donny," Tears fill his eyes, but I don't care. I take a step forward and hurl the plane with all my might. Victory is mine, but before I can celebrate, Charlie dives. He flies off the roof faster then I can think, catching his plane but falling.

I run to the edge and see him hanging from a lower window sill. His voice is frantic and under him I see his plane shatter, his favorite plane.

"PLEASE! HELP! PLEASE HELP ME DONNY! I'M SORRY ABOUT THE PLANE!" His tears dry up in the wind and his face is tinted a bright shade of pink with the effort it takes to keep his slim arms from slipping off the flimsy wood. "PLEASE!"

"PLEASE! Someone help us!" She yells into the warm night air.

The man's elbow connects viciously with my chin and mouth; my foot slips off of him and my last effort dies down with Charlie's _favorite _plane. 

A few more blows and my mind is swirling. The woman's screams are fading and I can't focus. I wish I hadn't of thrown that plane.

I open my eyes and the first thing I am aware of is how weird my face feels. I reach up and feel it.

"Oh God, Don, I was so worried." Dad says, standing up from a chair and putting his arms around me.

"My face feels funny." I say almost to myself.

"It's pretty swollen up." He pulls away and sighs.

"What happened?" I ask because I honestly don't remember. I remember the… the nothing. 

"A woman claims you were attacked." I look up, remembering the frightening fight. "Do you remember?"

"Yeah, but how did I get here?" I ask and look at my bandaged arm. I don't remember getting that.

"The girl called 911. She shot the guy you were fighting with your gun." I gasped. I had forgotten about my gun. Dad looks grimly at my arm. "Missed the first time." I can't help but laugh, but it soon turns into a pained cough. "Hey take it easy. You've only been here for about an hour and a half.

"Where's Charlie?" I ask and spit into a small trashcan next to the bed.

"I don't know. Before I left I searched the whole house, but he just wasn't there." He says and sits back down in the chair. "I'd think he'd of gone to school early, but around 5:00 this morning, he was rummaging around the medicine cabinet in the upstairs bathroom. Something was definitely wrong."

I sit up and swing my legs over the bed. "What if something happened to him? Did you call his cell phone?" Dad nods.

"I can try again. You stay in bed though. You need your rest," He stands up.

"Try the school to," I tell him as he leaves.

Once he's gone I let my exhaustion show and I fall back unto the bed. My arms throbs and I throw my hand to it and dig my nails into the skin. I've always done that, ever since I was a little kid. Whenever there was pain, I'd try and divert it somewhere else.

After a minute, I try to sleep, but it just doesn't come. My discussion with Charlie has left me worried about him. It's almost seven, and the hospital seems to get louder. The only thing I can do now is wait for Dad and Charlie to get back.

I laugh out loud when I remember how absurd my thoughts were when I was getting the crap kicked out of me. Most people would be panicking, or trying desperately to escape, but I was remembering something that happened so long ago that everyone probably forgot. That is if Charlie ever told anyone. I close my eyes and plunge deep into my thoughts and away from the noise.

"_Donny, please don't let me die!" I sigh outwardly, but on the inside I'm in agony with worry. My heart is beating so fast and hard that it's making my vision spin. He's going to fall if I don't do something._

"You're not going to die! Now would you keep it down? Do you want mom and dad to hear you?" I hiss and bend down seeing if I can reach him. His face contorts into something I can only describe as his Confusion/sick/sobbing/temper-tantrum face.

"YES!" He sobs. His knuckles are white and his nails are bending from the pressure. I lie fully on the slanted roof and slide half way off. Somehow, miraculously, my hand can reach him, but he needs to grab it.

"Grab my hand!" I call out but he shakes his head. 

"I can't," He shuts his eyes and wimpers. "I can't hold on Donny!" Without another thought, I take a chance. Sliding down a little more and hooking my knees on the edge of the roof, I grab my little brother's forearm and pull him up with a grunt.

We both land on the roof, me on my back and Charlie next to me on his stomach, but he doesn't lie like I do. Without waiting a second to catch his breath he scrambles up the roof like a scared mouse. Once at the window he clutches the wall and curls into a ball; his chest heaving.

If he wasn't so short and he could reach the window, I'm sure he would've gone inside first.

I turn over and crawl up the rest of the way.

"You okay, bud?" He doesn't respond. Frightened eyes stare out at something that only he can see. Sighing, I pick him up and carry him inside. "This is our little secret, okay? If you don't tell mom and dad, I'll give you my old power ranger, okay?"

The eyes that were sad and scared a few seconds ago now come to life.

"The r-red one?" He whispers hopefully.

"Yeah," I ruffle his already messy hair and place him on the creaky attic floor. "The red one."

000045

Sorry about the lack of Charlie, I'm getting ready for the big last few chapters. Those will be chocked full of Charlie! And Don… 


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